


again... and again

by N1VA



Series: old stuff new exposure [21]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, some death some sexy talk all, tagging..... see its happening my mind is like noooooooo stop, that just, ugh after posting 20 of these im tired so fuck taggimg, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1VA/pseuds/N1VA
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: old stuff new exposure [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149803
Kudos: 19





	again... and again

[He’s too happy.]

Bruce sighed in frustration. He’d been tracking the Joker that night, which… Maybe he did a lot more often than he was willing to admit. It was to keep Gotham safe, after all. Tonight the Joker was practically skipping around, his usual giggle seemed so much more cheerful than usual. As if he was genuinely enjoying himself for once.

Bruce knew all too well about putting on a mask for the public. He and Joker were alike in that respect. Bruce knew Joker better than just about anyone, could tell his moods by the little flashes in his eyes, the twitch in his fingers, the lilt of his voice. He liked to imagine he was the only one who truly knew what was going on in the madman’s head. That wasn’t true, of course, but a man could dream.

He continued following Joker through the darkened city streets. Weaving in and out of alleys, across rooftops, several twists and turns in direction. Bruce prided himself on being able to find and follow just about any criminal, but even he had to admit that this was taxing.

Finally after endless minutes spent going in what seemed like circles, Joker stopped in front of a run down, possibly abandoned apartment complex. Bruce wondered what he was doing. This wasn’t the man’s hideout. Unless Joker had taken it over without him knowing.

[Unlikely.]

Joker dug through his pockets, muttering something under his breath that Bruce couldn’t make out. With a giggle of triumph the man pulled out a set of keys on a… Shoelace?

[Of course he wouldn’t just have a key-ring like the rest of us…]

Joker was entering now, and as tempted as Bruce was to follow him in, he knew better than to push his luck. At least he knew where this was, so he could come back and look into it another night.

[He’s up to something…]

Bruce went home after it was clear Joker wasn’t leaving the place anytime soon. He decided to call it a night, and headed home. He had to walk back to the Tumbler, and he reflected on the oddity of it all during the short trip.

[He must be planning something… He doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t do anything without a reason… I have to figure out what he’s up to and stop him before it’s too late.]

He whipped through the empty streets, uncaring at the moment about his speed. It’s not like the cops would dare to pull him over anyway. They might hate him, but they weren’t stupid. They knew Gotham needed him around. So despite all the laws in place about bringing down unaffiliated vigilantes, they left him alone for the most part. Which Bruce appreciated, he didn’t have time to deal with the cops and catch criminals every other night.

[The GPD are all crooks anyway…]

He reached the manor at around four am. Bruce pulled in through the entrance of the cave, hit the breaks with a slight squeal of the tires. He’d need to replace them soon. Bruce made a mental note to have Lucius get on that. 

He removed the suit with expert ease. It took less time than usual, he was being careless. Pulling off pieces and parts and tossing them to fall where the may. Alfred would get those later. He was far too busy contemplating that nights events. As uninteresting as they were in and of themselves, he knew there must be more to it. That he must be missing something. Joker never did a thing without purpose. He had to have known Batman was watching, he always did.

[So just what is he playing at?]

As much as Bruce wanted to stay up until dawn trying to piece together the Joker’s new evil scheme, he was edging toward sleep at an alarming rate.

[I’ll get him. I always do. I’ll go check out that building tomorrow and figure this whole mess out before it even starts.]

-

The next night, as Bruce promised to himself he went out as Batman. He was tracking down the apartment he’d trailed Joker to the night before. He did find it, relatively quickly. He didn’t have a key so he simply broke down the door. He’d deal with any fallout from that later.

The first room didn’t look half bad. Clean, tidy. Maybe a little too… Colorful, for Bruce’s taste, but that was expected from Joker. He wondered if Joker really had claimed this place. On the table were boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. Full to the brim of random junk. There was a leather binder on the very top of a large box, precariously perched on the edge. Bruce’s curiosity got the better of him.

[Why would Joker of all people have a scrapbook?]

He stepped over various papers scatters across the floor on his way over. Bruce traces his gloved fingers over the cover. Real leather. Must have been expensive. He wondered what, or who, was important enough for Joker to have this entire book dedicated to them. He secretly hoped it was for him. Not that he wanted Joker to be obsessed with him… It would just be more proof of the man’s insanity.

Bruce sucked in breath, could nearly taste the dust thick in the air, and opened the book to the first page.

Oh.

It was a photograph Joker. Or at least, Joker before he was Joker. With some other person Bruce had never seen before. They had their arms entwined, soft smiles on their faces. Joker’s hair was a dark dirty brown, his eyes the same color, if a shade lighter. His skin, though pale, had a healthy pink flush. His grin didn’t have the manic edge that it had now. He was beautiful.

As for the other man, Bruce just glared. Light blond hair, so light in fact it appeared white. Sharp hazel irises, speckled with darker gold flecks. Bruce couldn’t quite tell from the angle of the picture, but he might have been taller than Joker. His skin was nearly as gold as the flecks in his eyes.

Bruce seethed with jealousy. He didn’t even realize that’s what it was at first, he just knew he hated the mysterious stranger with a burning passion. He tried to tell himself it was because the man clearly had no idea how dangerous Joker was. That he was anger at the person’s own stupidity, not the man himself.

[How dare he hold Joker like that?]

Ah. There it was. The thought that told Bruce what he was really feeling. Then he pushed it down as effectively as he could. He completely shrouded himself in denial.

[I do not want to hold Joker like that.]

Except he did. Very much so. So much so that he had half a mind to track him down and do just that. He didn’t. But the thought was there. He buried that down too.

He took the photo out of the plastic casing. Flipped it over. On the back written in a hasty scrawl was ‘J & A, 1999, LA’.

[So he was in California before coming here?]

It also gave Bruce something of a time line. The year was 2010.

[Eleven years? Has it really been that long?]

He still didn’t know Joker’s age, but it was something. Or J’s age, as the photo declared. He wondered vaguely if Joker picked his current name based off his old one, or if it had been a coincidence.

[Or he could be A. Nobody said he had to have a name starting with a J before… Before now.]

Bruce wondered if he even remembered his name from then. It didn’t matter, that’s all he knew. Joker was Joker, anything else was irrelevant.

He put the picture back. He flipped to the next page. More photos. And then the next page. More photos. Lather, rinse, repeat. In all of them Joker looked so happy. It made Bruce’s heart ache with some unknown emotion.

In most of the the mysterious man was there as well. The backs of the rest of the photos were either blank or had writing in the same sloppy scrawl, none dating back further than 1995. Then the last page.

A letter in a faded, yellowing envelope. The seal had been ripped open. Bruce hesitantly lifted the paper. Pulled out the letter carefully, not wanting to tear it.

In the now familiar handwriting, was a short note.

'Darling,

You know what this letter means. I have to leave. Just for a while, do not fear. You should disappear soon, as well. As much as running shows weakness, now is the time for such a display. Our business is a tough market, as you well understand. I will keep in contact by the ways I have access to.

Go to Gotham. I’ll find you there.

All my heart,

J.’

It was deliberately short, and cryptic. Bruce could only glean so much information from it.

'Go to Gotham.’

So Joker didn’t come here because he wanted to… He came because he was forced to.

For reasons Bruce didn’t understand, his chest went tight at the realization.

[I always assumed he came here… To fight me…]

He fought the urge to shred the letter. He shoved it back in place with more force than he intended.

'I’ll find you there.’

Bruce slammed the book shut.

'All my heart.’

He tossed the book carelessly back onto the pile of crap filling the box. Bruce wanted to leave. He wanted to find the Joker, demand answers. To yank the truth from him whether he liked it or not. Instead he wandered further into the apartment. Bruce hoped to find something related to Joker’s plans. He really was just looking for a distraction.

The bedroom was far messier. The bed had a mass of sheets tangled on top. The pillows didn’t have cases. Something that looked like blood was splattered on the bare mattress. Bruce starting going over the room diligently. Anything related to what he was sure Joker was up to was cataloged in his mind to file through later.

A first aid kit was on the wooden desk in one corner of the room. Bruce suspected he knew why Joker would have needed that. A particularly bad fight from a few nights prior had left both men bloody and bruised. He didn’t feel bad about it. It was his job, after all.

Bruce explored the en-suite bathroom with something approaching disinterested. His every thought was still taken with his earlier find. When he didn’t see anything of immediate interest he decided it was time to hit the road. Couldn’t risk Joker coming back and finding him here.

Shit, the door. Ah, fuck it.

On his way out Bruce propped the door against the frame. He didn’t particularly care at the moment. Joker could come to his own conclusions. as to what happened there

Once again, he headed home in defeat.

-

The next night, he did run into Joker. Bruce couldn’t just bring it up, of course, so he beat the man to a bloody pulp and dragged him off to an empty alley.

“Batsy, Batsy, Batsy! This isn’t part of our game, when are you taking me to Arkham?” Joker taunted.

Batman growled, didn’t give any other verbal response. He was so close to spilling out every question he had for the man. But he bit his tongue against it.

“C'mon then, hit me again. C'mon Batsy, you want to, I want it, just hit me.” Joker gasped into his ear.

Bruce didn’t. He did, however, grab the man by the throat and pin him roughly against the brick wall. Joker let out a strangled half-moan and Bruce felt a familiar throb between his legs. This happened nearly every time they fought, he’d learned to ignore it. But then Joker was pushing his hips against his, was grinding them together. He couldn’t feel much through the suit but the action sent his imagination into overdrive.

“Stop that.” Bruce grunted. He really could’t deal with this tonight. He subconsciously tightened his hand.

Joker groaned obscenely. He started picking at the utility belt on Batman’s waist. His eyes had all but rolled back.

“Yeah, c'mon, fuck, just like that, Batsy.”

“You’re sick.” Bruce pulled his gloved palm away from Joker’s neck, to get him to quit making those damn noises. Bruce trapped him against the wall by placing both hands on wither side of him, his body effectively blocking his escape. Joker giggled right into his ear.

“Tell me what you’re up to.”

“Me? Oh, just this and that, y'know. I haven’t had the time to come up with anything, uh, good, yet, but when I do you’ll be the first to know.” Joker whispers hotly against the exposed skin oh Bruce’s face. Their lips were so close…

Bruce tried to keep his mouth shut, but the words tumbled out without his consent.

“Who the fuck is J?”

[That came out wrong…]

That got a reaction from Joker. He frowned, then fought against Bruce’s hold. Joker apparently didn’t want to discuss it.

“Joker, I’m not letting you go until I get some answers.”

“How do you know about him?” Joker snapped.

“I… I went to the apartment. The one you were at the other night…”

“So you followed me? Is that what you do? Stalk me? You really have nothing better to do? I thought you fought crime, but no, you just disrespect everyone’s boundaries while, uh, beating the shit out of anyone who dare defy you.” Joker spat.

Bruce had never seen Joker upset like this. Never was his rage directed at Bruce himself in such a way. Joker’s eyes were on fire. He nearly burned Bruce with his glare. Joker kept pushing at his chest.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were planning something.” Bruce admitted shamefully. When Joker put things in perspective as he had… It almost seemed like Bruce was the one up to something.

“Whatever. Just let me go. I’m tired of playing tonight.” Joker said.

Bruce grabbed Joker’s chin, forcing his gaze back at his own.

“I just want to know who he was.”

“Why do you care so much? He’s gone now. He… He won’t be coming back either. So just leave it be.”

Joker has a look to his eyes, one Bruce hadn’t seen him with before. Sorrow, guilt, and something so heartrending that Bruce melted. He felt the deep urge to kiss him again.

“Why won’t he come home?”

“Because I killed him, alright. I slit his throat and watched him bleed out. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Oh.

“Oh…”

It didn’t surprise Bruce. It didn’t make him feel any different about the man in front of him either. He knew full well what Joker was capable of, what he has indeed done in the past, of the things he might possibly do in the future. That didn’t make his attraction to him any less. Perhaps that should concern Bruce, but it didn’t.

“Okay. That’s… That’s all I wanted to know. You can leave now.” Bruce let his arms drop back to his sides.

Joker didn’t leave. He stood there, staring down Bruce with a display of emotions running across his face. Bruce was fascinated with what he saw. Hate, anger, sadness, more anger, guilt, and then something soft…

Joker reached up and grabbed Bruce’s cowled face in his hands. He slowly pulled him closer again. His eyes were glued to his lips.

“His name was Jack. Mine was Andrew. We, we, uh, ran away from home together. Thought we could make it in LA with nothing more than the clothes on our backs. It didn’t work out as planned. I guess you, uh, saw the letter. I panicked. Freaked out. I can’t remember how I wound up with the knife, or how I managed to get him under me, but I did cut his throat. He was the first person I ever killed. Then I came here, like he’d wanted me to. And… you know the rest.”

Joker licked his lips at the end of his story. His breath was hot, sweet, right against Bruce’s own mouth. Joker’s eyes were half-lidded.

“I wasn’t ever gonna tell you that. But… Now you know. So, fly back to your cave, Batsy. You got what you wanted.”

But Bruce hadn’t gotten what he wanted. Not yet. He jerked Joker forward, eradicating the inch of distance between them. The kiss was hot, sloppy, desperate, and so wrong that Bruce couldn’t help but want more. He traced his tongue against the seam of Joker’s lips, begged for entrance, and Joker gave. Neither could tell who was making the sounds echoing off the sides of the alley, and neither cared. Joker pulled away first.

Bruce fisted his fingers into the fabric of Joker’s vest. He was tempted to take him back to the cave, into his home. To take off the mask and show Joker all of him. To bare himself completely.

“Not tonight.” Joker smirked, as if reading his thoughts. He brought his fingers up to trace the edge of the cowl.

“We have all the time in the world, Bruce.”

And with that, Joker finally left.

-

Bruce never did find out how Joker knew, how Joker could have possibly figured that out, but it didn’t matter.

They worked out something of a relationship. It wasn’t perfect, but Bruce wouldn’t give it up for the world.

They took their own photos, to replace the ones in the leather bound binder.

They both looked happy.


End file.
